


Weaverling

by Shut_up_im_Lucky



Series: HollowKnight & Bnha [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead is Bad at Feelings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Murder, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Dadzawa, Fake Character Death, Filicide, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hornet has a sword, Hornet is bad at Feelings, Human hornet, Im not sure this counts as "modern setting" but im putting it anyway, Neglect, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The Pale King Being an Asshole (Hollow Knight), The Pale King is a Bad Parent (Hollow Knight), Vigilante Hornet, aizawa is concerned, but he's slightly better, its not hornet but still, white lady is a bad parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26881087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shut_up_im_Lucky/pseuds/Shut_up_im_Lucky
Summary: While on a patrol in a shady area of Japan, Aizawa meets a peculiar Vigilante
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Hornet (Hollow Knight), Broken Vessel | Lost Kin & Hornet, Herrah the Beast & Hornet (Hollow Knight), Hive Knight & Hornet (Hollow Knight), Hornet & Hive Queen Vespa (Hollow Knight), Hornet & The Knight (Hollow Knight), Hornet & White Lady (Hollow knight), The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet
Series: HollowKnight & Bnha [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961191
Comments: 20
Kudos: 167





	1. Vigilante

**Author's Note:**

> Some things  
> Hornet looks mostly human! She's got a few very non-human mutations but other than that she's human.  
> Yes the rest of the HK cast exist here, but this takes place pre-canon, so the hollowknight is still sealed away and the knight hasn't shown up yet.  
> Infrequent updates

The streets in kagayaku were cold, they always were at night, cold and dark, but never silent. For the sounds of the city echoed dully through this particular neighborhood, and muggings and murders occured in the dark hidden alleys. The area was only illuminated by the bright orange street lamps, most of the buildings were abandoned, those that weren’t were shabby at best, and a sickeningly sweet stench permeated the air.

Heroes didn’t patol through kagayaku, not that the residents really wanted them too, most of the people there wanted to stay hidden in one way or another. Even if the area wasn’t safe, kagayaku was the place to run to if you needed to hide.

Which is why Eraserhead was patrolling the area in the first place.

He had noticed how many crimes that got reported from this area never got investigated, and now that he’s here, he noticed how many crimes never even got reported. Shouta let out a sigh as he jumps from one roof to another, this is gonna be a rough night.

He passes over an alley with something that looks to be a gift basket with food inside, it wasn’t the first he had seen, the people here seem to leave out lots of them. They were supposedly for the local vigilante, who had also caught his attention.

They didn’t have a name, but locals in not only kagayaku, but in a few other neighboring towns had spotted the vigilante. Their quirk creates a substance similar to spidersilk, which they use to restrain their opponents. 

Eraserhead, unlike other heroes, had no issues with vigilantes. Most of them were helping others in any way they could. And while it might be illegal, Shouta didn’t really care, pro heroes aren’t exactly law abiding citizens either.

The sound of groaning snapped him out of his thoughts, it wasn’t loud, but it managed to catch Eraserhead’s attention. He walks to the edge of the roof he’s on, looking down, he finds two men in the alley way, one pinned against the wall by the other, with a knife at his throat. Said attacker was swaying on his feet, and was the source of the groaning, probably drunk.

Eraserhead prepares to jump down when a faint white light catches his eye. Then suddenly the assaulting man lets out a startled shout, when Eraserhead looks back at the man there's a glowing white thread wrapped around his wrist.

At the source of the thread is a small figure running from further down the alley, they tug on the thread and the man is immediately pulled towards them, he loses his footing and falls to the ground. By the time he’s gotten up the figure has closed the distance and punches him, sending the man flying into the alley wall. He hits the wall with a slam and slides down, seemingly unconscious. The figure starts wrapping him in thread, Eraserhead searches the alley and finds the victim is already gone.

“I know you’re there,” the figure in the alley says, the voice is feminine and young, very young, “I can feel you stalking me.” 

Eraserhead is a bit taken aback not only by the fact the figure (who is most definitely the vigilante he’s been hearing about) had noticed him. But also by how young the voice sounded, he jumps down into the alley and studies the kid in front of him.

The first thing he notices is her shawl, a deep red contrasting both the dark muted colors of the buildings and the nauseating orange lights all over kagayaku. It was so large (reaching down to the girl’s knees) that he had mistook it for a dress at first, under the shawl it seemed that she was wearing a black bodysuit that covered the bottom half of her face. The girl’s hair was long, and pulled into a ponytail, there was a strange shape to it, to pointed parts that looked to be horns, it was a pale white which contrasted against her dark skin. Her eyes were completely black, except for the thin white irises that seemed to study Eraserhead’s every movement.

But the most noteworthy thing, at least in Eraserhead’s opinion, is the long silver blade strapped to her back. He was almost tempted to call it a needle due to the loop at one end, he wondered where on earth the girl got that.

“You are…” She starts, her posture tall and stiff, and with her footing Eraserhead knew that she would be prepared for any attack he might send, “You are Eraserhead, is that correct?”

“You’ve heard of me,” he says, forcibly making his tone and posture seem relaxed.

“Only experienced underground heroes would come to a place like this,” the girl responds curtly, “What is your business here?”

“I noticed the amount of crime here, wanted to help,” he answers, “I know what it’s like to grow up in a place like this, wanted to make it safer for those living here.”

The young vigilante studies him, he recognizes the look in her eyes, skepticism, suspicion, the trace amount of fear. But slowly she seems to relax, at least a little.

“Do what you wish, but I doubt it will help,” she says before walking over to the man she apprehended. She opens one of his eyes for a moment, studying for something, before closing it again and pulling out more glowing thread, “feel free to take him, he will be no further threat.”

The vigilante launches her thread, tugs at it, and she’s gone. Leaving Eraserhead alone in the dark silent alleyway, pondering his encounter with a sickeningly sweet scent in the air.


	2. Weaver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizawa attempts to get the young vigilante to open up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Aizawa is hard

Shouta continued to patrol kagayaku after his run-in with the vigilante.

He hasn’t interacted with her since their first meeting, but he sees her at least once on every patrol. Out of the corner of his eye, or around a corner, sometimes peering down at him from nearby roofs. 

Shouta knows he should talk to her, he wants to. But everytime he so much as glances in her direction she bolts into the shadows, seemingly vanishing from sight. He’s been patrolling kagayaku every other day for three weeks and hasn’t been able to talk to her once.

That night it was particularly dark, with only the orange streetlights offering any illumination. Shouta had to be extra careful to not fall when jumping across roofs, it was strangely quiet, the hero had yet to encounter anyone, criminal or no. The very air felt stagnant, no breeze of any kind.

He’d been out for around 3 hours before he heard anyone else, he had landed on the roof of what looked to be an abandoned apartment building. When he heard someone humming, the song was quick paced and rhythmic, but still soft. When Shouta looked to where the humming, he saw the little vigilante, humming to herself while sitting on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the edge. As the pro got closer the glint of her blade caught his eye, she was cleaning it, Shouta noticed the substance she seemed to wipe off was orange and luminescent. 

He had expected her to run as soon as he started walking towards her, alerted by his footsteps, but she seemed so focused on cleaning her blade that she hadn’t heard him.

The girl looked so… small up close. It was nothing like the imposing predatory presence she emanated when she fought. Now she looked like, well, like a  _ kid _ . Not a vigilante.

Shouta took another step, doing his best to make it audible, so as to not scare the kid. She flinched heavily and whipped around, locking eyes with him, her white eye wide, but still calculating. Her posture stiffened, one hand immediately gripped the handle of the blade tightly, the other dove back under her shawl, the hero could see a white light glow under the red fabric, the same glow that came from her threads.

“Hey there,” He says casually, hoping that his relaxed demeanor would soothe the Vigilante, it did not.

“What reason do you have to speak to me?” Her tone is firm and steady, but her voice is still a child’s voice, he can hear a twinge of fear in it, “Shouldn’t you be patrolling the area?”

“Have been for the past three hours,” he responds before sitting to her right, far enough away that she doesn’t recoil, but not far enough for it to be weird, “You’re the first person I’ve seen the whole night.”

“I see,” the vigilante murmurs, the two sit in silence for a few moments.

“What’s your name Kid?” The hero asks suddenly, the girl turns to look at him, eyes narrowed and suspicious.

“My name does not matter,” she says, “I have no one who calls me it.”

“I hope you realize how concerning that sounds,” Shouta mutters.

“I don’t care,” the girl snaps curtly, “call me what the civilians do if it matters so much.”

“Kid, you have 6 different names.”

She doesn’t respond, just glares at the horizon before speaking again.

“you’ve been passing through here frequently since our first meeting, is that correct?”

“Maybe, the crime rate here is higher than most of the areas I patrol,” the hero responds, “so it’s been a higher priority.”

“That makes sense.”

“You’ve been sighted here more often than the other places you patrol,” he continues, “is your reason similar?”

The girl tightens her grip on the blade, her shoulders tense and eyes shut tight for a moment. Shouta realizes he made a horrible misstep.

“No, my reasons are…” she pauses, her gaze shifts to the city’s horizon, the kid’s thin white irises looking unfocused for the first time, “my reasons are very different.”

The hero merely hums, turning his view to the area. Kagayaku was beautiful in a strange, morbid sort of way. It had something to do with its emptiness, the quiet still air, like you were looking at a moment in history long since past.

A quick glance to his left showed that the girl had started to clean her blade again. She glared at her reflection in the pale white blade, hand tightening around her cleaning cloth, which had been stained orange.

“Never seen a quirk that creates glowing orange sludge before,” Shouta comments.

“Consider yourself lucky then,” she replies, “It really stings, and the stains take forever to wash out.”

He lets out a small chuckle, “I would ask why you’re so familiar with that, but I have the feeling I wouldn’t like the answer.”

“You wouldn’t,” the girl says, the tension in her body seems to soften, but her gaze is still solemn. There’s something else going on, Shouta recognizes the signs, he’s seen it in Hizashi, in Nemuri, in himself.

“You want to talk about it?” He asks.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” she responds.

“You’re grieving,” he says firmly, “do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you _always_ get this personal with vigilantes?” She snaps, glaring at the man.

“I do when they sound like they can’t even apply for a learners permit,” Shouta says, unfazed by the girl's anger.

The vigilante stands abruptly, silk coming out from under her shawl and being launched some unknown distance. He may be mistaken, but Shouta thinks he sees little pinpricks of tears on the girl’s cheeks, she mumbles something.

“What was that?” The hero asks.

“I said you may call me _Weaver_ ,” the girl says again, before tugging on her silk, and disappearing into the night.

Well, at least he had a name now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hornet was humming the greenpath background music by the way.


	3. Hornet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever noticed that no character ever refers to Hornet by her name? She's always called a title of some kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New perspective time!

Black boots land on the cracked concrete with a soft thump, weaver marching fast away from the conversation she just has. Her gloved fists are clenched, but she still uses them to wipe her eyes, erasing any evidence of tears.

_You’re grieving, do you want to talk about it?_

_Stupid_ , the girl thinks, she’s not grieving, she can’t afford to grieve! It’s a distraction, and a stupid one at that. Crying over things long past, it’s _foolish_ , it’s _weak_ . She patrols Kagayaku so often because it was an integral part of _her_ territory, not because of.... Not because of _them_.

She stops, suddenly realizing she doesn’t know where she’s going. _Stupid_ she chastises herself again, wandering aimlessly is how you get yourself killed. The question is where she will stay tonight, her first thought is one of her hideouts, but she’s tempting fate enough just talking to a pro hero, so not tonight. Her stepmother’s home is her next idea, it's far away, but that's what the girl wanted. She decides not to, Weaver doesn’t think she can stomach seeing the woman.

_The girl sobs into her stepmother’s chest, the woman’s arms wrapped around her, she burrows more into the blue dress. Weaver can feel her stepmother’s fingers stroke through her white hair._

_“Hush dear daughter,” the woman says, “it will be alright.”_

_Her voice is as calm and serene as always, but it offers no comfort. The woman’s relaxed tone irritates the bundle of turmoil in the little weavers heart._

_All of Weaver's siblings are gone, she wants them back, she wants them back so badly. She’s scared that her father’s plan didn’t work, that her eldest sibling’s sacrifice will be in vain, that it will be for_ **_nothing_ ** _. There’s a rage that the sacrifice was made at all, a rage that no one would explain why her father “disposed” of the youngest. There was a fury from when no one helped her look when another went_ **_missing_ ** _._

_“Why aren’t you sad?” She murmurs in her stepmother’s dress._

_“What was that child?” The woman asks, Weaver raises her head to look her in the eyes._

_“Why aren’t you sad?!” Weaver repeats loudly, the anger rises at the confusion in her stepmother's cloudy blue eyes._

_“Whatever do you mean child?” she asks, Weavers rage burns in her chest._

_“They were your children Ms. White,” the girl says firmly, tears still running down her face “but yet, you do not grieve them!”_

_“Oh dear daughter,” The White Lady reaches down to wipe Weaver’s face, but the girl blocks her hand, “It’s sacrifice was necessary.”_

Nevermind, she _definitely_ can’t stomach seeing her stepmother right now.

She could go to the Himitsumura family home, see her mother’s relatives, they wouldn’t deny her if she showed up. And she wouldn’t _have_ to talk to anyone, someone might snap at her if she tries, as long as she left tomorrow morning she should be fine.

_To say the young weaver felt invisible around her mother’s family would be a lie, it was the opposite. Although they almost never spoke to her, every moment the girl spent in the Himitsumura household made her feel like she was being watched._

_Even before her mother’s passing they were distant, many of them disliked the fact the girl’s conception was the effect of a deal between their parents. That dislike grew when that very same deal got her mother killed._

_They never call her anything nicer than “Harrah's daughter” anymore._

Maybe it wasn’t worth the effort, it would be a long walk just to deal with their glares. But that only left one option, and that was her godmother’s house.

Her godmother’s name is Vespa Hachiya, she was her mother’s best friend before her passing. She lives rather close to Kagayaku, just one train stops away, weaver doesn’t go there that often, it’d be nice to see Vespa again.

After the vigilante decides her destination, she runs to an abandoned building. Hopping in through a window with practiced ease. This particular window had its glass removed years ago, so it's easier than the locked doors. The building used to be a gym, but after the neighborhood started to decline it shut down.

The inside is pitch black, but Weaver is able to move through it effortlessly, navigating through old sports equipment and exercise machines until she reaches the locker room. It smells like dust and sweat but the girl doesn’t mind, this room had some illumination in the form of silk strings on one of the lockers, holding it shut.

She removes the silk and opens the locker, she often used this building to hide her stuff during patrols, since no one else ever went in here. (Weaver would know if someone did, she set up threads everywhere.) She quickly changes into normal clothes, (black shirt over dark blue jeans, she keeps the boots), and readjusts her shawl to make it look more like a scarf. Then finally putting her needle in a long black case, it looked more like a guitar case at first glance, which is why the girl got away with carrying it with her in public areas.

After changing Weaver leaves the building and runs to the train station, finding that thankfully her usual train to her godmother’s home hadn’t left yet. She manages to make it on the train a minute before it leaves, the car she’s in is mostly empty. With not even enough passengers to fill the seats, a few of them give her weird looks as she passes by to sit in an empty seat, but it doesn’t bother the girl. They’re probably put off by her eyes or something, not much to worry about.

_What’s your name kid?_

Weaver’s hands clenched around her shawl’s red fabric, the question sent a spike of white hot anger through her body when she heard it, but she had no idea why. It was an ordinary question, it was _polite_ , so why did it bother her? Was it because she’s not used to being asked that? Was it because she was already in a bad mood? Was it the fact he’s a pro hero? 

Was it because no one calls her by her name anymore?

_Child_

_Dear daughter_

_Brat!_

**_His_ ** _spawn_

_Bargaining chip_

_Harrah’s daughter_

_Weaver_

**_Hornet_ **

…

_She sits at the kitchen table in a house filled with pastel yellows and oranges. There’s a woman cooking in the kitchen, she’s tall and slender, her blonde hair is fluffy, and bounces around as she moves. A jacket lined with brown fur hangs from her shoulders, hiding her iridescent wings. Morning sun pours through a nearby window, it’s a beautiful day._

_It doesn’t feel beautiful to Hornet._

_The house is quiet, quieter than it should be, it should be filled with Hornet’s idle chatter, with her mother’s laughs, with Vespa’s buzz as she moves around the kitchen. But now the only sound was the clinking of a spatula on a frying pan. Something’s missing,_ someone’s _missing, there’s two instead of three._

_Hornet knows she should start up a conversation, talk about what she’s excited about for today, but she can’t, she’s not excited for anything._

_Her mother is gone, her siblings are gone, even her_ father _is gone. She has no one to go to, no one to do things with. The only one left is Vespa._

_The girl hadn’t even noticed she had started crying until her godmother started to wipe her face._

_“I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Vespa says quietly, her own sadness creeping into her voice, “Hey, I’ll tell you what. How about later, we go to the store and pick up the ingredients for those meaty dumplings you like? We can make them together! Does that sound nice Hornet?”_

_Hornet nods, not with her usual excitement, but happier than she was prior._

The train gets to the girl’s stop and she rushes out, walking down the dark street bathed in the streetlamps golden light.

She reaches a familiar yellow house, various potted plants surround the home, when Hornet reaches the door she pulls out a key and unlocks the door. She entered the house as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake anyone. More flowers are inside, watered and obviously well cared for.

“What are you doing here?” 

Hornet whirls around to see a man with fluffy brown hair, he’s muscular, that's obvious even under his loose black t-shirt, he has a few inches on Hornet, but Vespa says they’ll probably be the same height in a few months. His round black eyes narrow as he glares at her, he crosses his arms.

He’s Vespa’s… partner, Hornet doesn’t know what kind of partner he is, just that he is one. The girl knows admittedly very little about the man, she barely even knows his name, only having heard him being called Hive. She knows his quirk is related to bees, much like Vespa’s, and it’s the reason they keep so many flowers around.

“I believe I’m allowed to come and go as I please,” She replies firmly.

“Yeah but at 3am? It takes you two hours to get from your other places,” his voice is angry, he’s never like Hornet, “What were you doing?”

“It’s not your business, even if it was I wouldn’t tell you,” the girl looks down the hallway, to where her godmother’s room is, “How is she?”

“She’s improving,” Hive’s demeanor changes, it’s gentler, “the doctor says she’ll recover, but it will take a long time, she’ll need physical therapy too.”

Hornet opens her case and pulls out some money and hands it to him. She has a personal rule, if you take your wallet with you when you commit crimes, you deserve to have it stolen from. Hive takes the money, examines it, then places it on the table.

“I’ll leave in the morning if you want,” she offers.

“Don’t bother, Vespa will be happy to see you,” Hive grumbles as he walks away, “get some rest Hornet.”

As Hornet lays in bed she thinks, maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if someone else wants to know her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hornet has so many parental figures but only 2 of them are worth a damn.


	4. Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hornet goes on a terrible trip down memory lane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposition dump time  
> Also bonus  
> 

The Hachiya home hadn’t changed much since Hornet was a child, it still had the same furniture, warm colors, and pleasant sweet scent wafting through it. The only thing that was different than the girl remembered was the amount of houseplants Hive insisted on keeping around. She doesn’t mind them too much, but the sheer amount of them was a bit ridiculous in her opinion.

She walks down the hall and opens the last door, revealing her bedroom. Her room in the Hachiya home is smaller than it is in the other places she stays, but it has a feeling of warmth and safety that's unmatched. It’s the only room in the house that’s not immaculately clean, probably because Hive’s doing the cleaning and he doesn’t want to enter her room.

Hornet places her needle's case on her desk and lays down on her bed without changing, she stays there for a few minutes before sitting back up to take off her boots. A picture frame on the nightstand catches her attention. 

Two faces stared back at the girl when she looked at the photo, one of them is herself when she was eight years old, the other has white hair and skin and two tall spiked horns. Hornet remembers this photo, she “borrowed” a camera from her stepmother and caught her sibling by surprise, landing on their shoulders and taking the photo once her sibling had balanced themself. 

Hornet remembers she used to have many siblings.

She can’t recall the exact number she had, but she knew it was more than the average family. She didn’t share a mother with any of them, but they had the same father, and that was enough for all of them. Yes, hornet knows she had many siblings, but for some reason, she can only remember three of them, for they were the only ones around by the time she was four.

She didn’t look like her siblings. Sure, they had the same white hair and horns, but that was it. Their skin was pure white, and their eyes were completely black, not even having the thin irises Hornet and their father had. They had no mouths to speak of, or speak with, the girl knew her siblings needed to eat, although she never quite figured out _how_ they ate. 

She remembers the eldest most clearly, maybe it was because they were around the longest? They were rail thin, and much taller than the others, towering over everyone by the time Hornet was seven. Their horns were spiked, but perfect to put your head between, Hornet knew that for a fact, with how many piggyback rides she got from them. They had always been their father’s favorite, he was training them to be a pro hero.

Her eldest sibling was the Containment hero _Pure Vessel_ , and their quirk allowed them to hold things within themselves for a certain amount of time. They weren’t a hero for very long, nor did they spend a lot of time in the spotlight, so her sibling wasn’t well known, but Hornet was still super proud of them.

They died during a raid on **_her_** base when Hornet was ten, the same attack her mother, The beastly hero _Woven Queen_ was killed in. Her father said their sacrifice was necessary for defeating the villain, she never quite believed that, why else would her father vanish a few days after?

Though not as clear, she still remembers her second sibling very well. They were her age, they even had the same birthday! She always called them her twin, and their face always seemed to light up at the label. Hornet often found them leaning on her shoulder, she didn’t mind. They had three horns, and the two heavy ones were on one side, so they were always a little off balanced. Hornet and them often got into trouble, their luminescent wings always helped with the duo’s escapes.

Six months before the raid, her twin went missing. Last seen carrying two grocery bags in Kagayaku, Hornet and her mother went to look for them, they found the bags. But her sibling was nowhere to be found.

The last sibling Hornet could remember was also the youngest sibling, they were two years younger than Hornet and her twin if she remembered correctly. They looked different than the others, with their pitch black skin and glowing white eyes, their two horns poking out of their messy hair. They were so energetic and curious, so full of life, and had the unique talent of getting into and out of any place they weren’t supposed to be in.

Hornet never truly got the chance to know them, she didn’t know exactly what happened, all she remembers was playing with them and her twin one night while her mom was on patrol. When they heard their father shouting, when the three of them went to investigate, they found him yelling at the injured form of their eldest sibling. After a lot of panicking, crying, yelling, and untrained use of a first aid kit, Hornet and her Twin managed to get their sibling into decent shape. But in their confusion, the two failed to notice their youngest sibling was nowhere to be found. When Hornet’s mother came to pick her up, she asked where they were.

“It’s been disposed of,” her Father had said

Hornet was six years old that night, she hadn’t understood what that had meant, but she does now.

It’s been 8 years since the death of her youngest sibling.

It's been 4 years since the death of her mother and eldest sibling.

And as of that night, November 18th, it has been 5 years since her Twin’s disappearance. 

The young vigilante stares at the photo in her shaking hands, sadness and anger tightening in her chest. Before she knows it tears are going down her face, her grip on the frame tightens so much her fingers turn white.

“Pathetic,” she whispers to herself, “Truly pathetic”


End file.
